


The Order of the Scarf

by TempleCloud



Series: Journey to Camelot [4]
Category: Arthurian Mythology, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
Genre: Christmas Party, F/M, Flirting, Giants, Quests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:06:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25827910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TempleCloud/pseuds/TempleCloud
Summary: King Arthur tells Sir John the story of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, to try and help him understand what being a Knight of the Round Table means.  Also some plot-related stuff at the end of chapter four, if you want to skip to there.
Relationships: Lady Bertilak/Gawain
Series: Journey to Camelot [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871695
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

This story goes back a good many years, to when I’d recently got married to Guinevere, and we were sitting around the Round Table on New Year’s Eve, with the knights who’d come to join me at Camelot. This was in the early days, and many of the heroes you’ll have heard of, like Sir Galahad and Sir Percival, weren’t even born yet. When I’d got started, my court had mainly consisted of Sir Kay and Merlyn and me, and some of our old friends like King Pellinore, but now knights were starting to come from all over Europe to join the Order of the Round Table and fight for justice against the rule of brute force. Sir Lancelot had come from France, and three of my nephews from Orkney: Sir Gawain and Sir Agravain, who were nineteen and eighteen and had only just been knighted, plus their next brother, Gaheris, who was serving as Gawain’s squire. I wished Gareth, the fourth brother, could have been celebrating Hogmanay with us as well, but he’d decided to stay home for a few years longer, so that he could look after his little brother Mordred, because my sister Morgause seemed to have lost interest in the baby as soon as he was weaned. It must have been hard for Gareth, because the older four boys had been very close, but that was why he couldn’t bear to think of Mordred growing up not knowing any of his brothers.

Anyway, it was New Year’s Eve, and the servants had brought us a beautiful dinner, but I was too restless to eat anything. We’d been doing nothing since Christmas but eat and drink, dance and play games, and tell stories and sing songs, and it had all been great fun, but after a week of it, I wanted more than fun. I wanted adventure; I wanted a challenge; I wanted to see what the next year was going to bring. In other words, I was an idiot who didn’t know when I was well off.

Well, while I was sitting there, so impatient that I could barely sit still, and the main course was being cleared away and Guinevere was asking me if I wanted to save the leftover vegetables for bubble-and-squeak tomorrow, suddenly a huge man on a huge horse rode into the middle of the hall. He was as big as a troll, but most of the trolls I’d met were made of granite or limestone, whereas this one shone as though he’d been carved out of a giant emerald. He was bright green all over, wearing a green fur robe and green jewellery, and sitting on a vast green charger with a green saddle and enamelled green stirrups, and carrying a holly bough in one hand and a ferocious green axe in the other. 

The strange thing was that he didn’t look rough and wild exactly, the way a troll or a giant does, but he didn’t look quite like a gentleman either. His green riding-breeches were beautifully tailored and obviously made of expensive cloth, but his green feet were bare. His huge green beard and his long green hair hung down to his elbows and were as thick as an evergreen shrub, but they were carefully combed and neatly trimmed. He wasn’t wearing any armour, and, with all his gold and emerald jewellery, and the intricate gold embroidery on his green velvet coat under the fur robe, and the way he’d plaited his horse’s green mane with dozens of fine gold wires, he almost looked a bit of a dandy. And yet he was armed with the biggest, grimmest battle-axe I’d ever seen, but even the axe-handle was decorated with pretty patterns and inlaid with gold.

For a few minutes we were too awestruck to speak, but eventually I found my voice and said, ‘Happy New Year! Are you joining us for dinner?’

The Green Knight stared down at me, and said, ‘No, that is not my purpose. And yet I do not come in war either, but merely to play a game with one of the knights here. If any man dares, he may strike me one blow as hard as he can, with my own axe. But after that, he must come to me in a year and a day, and I will strike him one blow in return. Does any accept my challenge?’

I said, ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t rather sit down and have a drink? Nobody wants to celebrate the New Year with mindless violence.’ But when the Green Knight laughed at me and said we were all cowards, I was furious, and stood up and said, ‘Well, if that’s the way you want it, give me the axe!’ So the Green Knight handed it to me, and dismounted and knelt on the floor so that I could reach his neck more easily, and kept on smiling as if to say, ‘Come on, let’s see what you can do!’

But at this point, Gawain said, ‘Excuse me, but would you mind if I answered our visitor’s challenge? Only you’re the King, so you’re too valuable to risk, but I’m expendable – after all, everyone knows I’m only here because I’m your nephew!’

He was joking, of course – he knew perfectly well that I don’t think anyone is expendable – but now Kay was standing up as well, pale and trembling but saying, ‘Why can’t _I_ fight the troll? I’m not having people say I’m only here because I’m your foster-brother!’

I said, ‘Well, we can’t all take him on in single combat! Let Gawain have a go.’

So Gawain took hold of the axe, but before he raised it, he asked, ‘Sir, will you tell me your name and where you live? Otherwise, it’s going to be a bit difficult to come to your house for the return match.’

But the Green Knight said, ‘Just get on with it! If I live, I’ll tell you after you’ve struck me, and if you kill me now, you won’t need to find me next year, will you? Now come on, unless you’re afraid!’ And he bowed his head and lifted up all his long green hair to expose the back of his neck, and Gawain chopped off his head with a single blow. It rolled several yards across the hall, leaving a trail of bright red drops of blood looking like holly-berries against the green skin, and then the Green Knight groped his way over to it, picked it up by the hair, and said, ‘Not bad, for a beginner.’ He dangled his head until it was level with Gawain, and said, ‘See you in a year and a day. Just ask for the Knight of the Green Chapel.’

Gawain said, ‘Do you want me to bring the axe back?’

But the Green Knight said, ‘No, keep it as a present. I’ve got plenty more.’ And he jumped back on his horse and rode off, with the holly-branch in one hand and his head in the other. We stared down at the muddy hoof-prints and the trail of blood on the floor, and then Guinevere said, ‘Well, we’ve had an adventure; _now_ do you want your dinner?’

Gawain was all for setting off on his quest after Easter, but Guinevere and I managed to persuade him to stay for most of the year. We knew he probably wouldn’t survive this quest, so we wanted to him to enjoy one more spring, one more summer, and then one more harvest-time, with us in peace. I was ashamed of myself for throwing away my friend’s life, not for some worthwhile cause but in a silly party game, but Gawain said that there was nothing silly about keeping his word, and that he would be nothing at all if he broke his promise. In the end, he decided to stay with us until Halloween and ride out on All Saints’ Day, to give himself two months. He was very insistent that he had to meet his fate alone, with only his horse Gringolet for company; no-one, not even Agravain or Gaheris, was allowed to ride with him.

Before he left, Guinevere and I decided to give him an early Christmas present. Up till then, Gawain had borne a shield with the same emblem as all his clan, a thistle, to show that the men of Orkney were tough and prickly and that no-one laid a hand on them without regretting it, and that, even if they were cut down, they’d keep coming back. But we thought he deserved a nobler symbol now, and so we had a new shield made for him, red with a golden five-point star.

Agravain suggested having a picture of the Virgin Mary painted on the inside, because she was Gawain’s favourite saint. Gawain had explained to me that when he felt afraid, he thought of how frightened Mary must have been when the angel told her she was pregnant, and she knew that Joseph might abandon her and she might have to undergo trial by ordeal and then be stoned to death, but how she was still brave and proud to be the mother of the Messiah. And, Gawain said, if a young lass like Mary could conquer her fear, so could he.

Guinevere made up a poem for when we presented the new shield to Gawain, explaining why the five-point star suited him. It went something like this:

For firstly he was firm in his five fingers.

For secondly he was sharp in his five senses.

For thirdly he trusted in the Five Wounds of Christ.

For fourthly he rejoiced in the Five Joys of Mary.

For fifthly he was full of faithfulness and friendliness, courage and courtesy and self-control.

When Guinevere read this to Gawain, he blushed and said, ‘But that makes it sound as though I’m better than other people! I mean, it’s very kind of you, but I can’t go round showing off like this!’

Guinevere kissed him and said, ‘Sweetest nephew, it’s all true – well, except maybe the bit about courtesy! Don’t you know that if a lady offers you a present, whatever it is, it’s a point of courtesy to accept it graciously?’

Gawain said, ‘What: _any_ present?’ and Guinevere said, ‘Yes: absolutely anything. And if a lady asks you to do anything for her, you are honour-bound to do it, just as if the Virgin Mary herself had asked you.’

We should have remembered how literal Gawain could be about blanket statements like that.


	2. Chapter 2

So Gawain rode on alone through November and December, asking everyone he met if they’d seen the Green Knight, or if they knew where the Green Chapel was. But nobody seemed to have noticed a green giant on a green horse – and after all, you’d think they’d remember if they had seen him!

Gawain wondered if the Green Knight had been a troll or some kind of very tall elf, so he decided to search Wales and then the North-West of England, where he might find trolls or ogres who might know something. The trouble was that the trolls and ogres only wanted to fight, not talk, and so did the dragons, not to mention hungry bears, and packs of wolves desperate with hunger from the hardest winter in years.

But it was the winter itself that was the real problem. Gawain wasn’t camping the way we are, with a tent and sleeping-bag; most nights he just lay down in his armour on the freezing ground, so that he’d be ready to fight if anything tried to eat him while he slept. He was glad if he just found a sheltered place between rocks where he was out of the snow and sleet, and then he had to hope the rocks wouldn’t wake up at night and turn out to be trolls.

When it came to Christmas Eve, he still hadn’t heard any news of the Knight of the Green Chapel, and it was weeks since he’d seen _any_ church or chapel, even one with a wriggly tin roof. Gawain wasn’t as obsessive about going to church and doing penance as some knights, like Galahad – after all, he knew God was everywhere, and he said going on a quest in December was quite enough of a penance without needing to wear a hair-shirt under his armour. But all the same, it _was_ Christmas, and he wished he could be in a church full of candlelight and the sound of carol-singing and the smell of fruit from the Christingles, instead of riding over the cold hillside in the dusk. It was too gloomy to see the picture of Mary on the inside of his shield, but he looked up to the sky where the first stars were shining, and he prayed:

‘Mother Mary, I know it’s cheeky to ask for this, when you had to give birth in a barn or a cave, or maybe even in an open field. But please, if you’re willing, can you help me find my way to somewhere with a church or a chapel in time for Midnight Mass? And if not, please help me not to mind being homeless at Christmas, like you. Amen.’

It seemed as though Mary was willing, because before long, Gawain came to the castle of a knight called Sir Bertilak de Hautdesert. The drawbridge was hauled up, of course, but when Gawain called to the porter to ask for shelter, the servants immediately wound it down to let him in, and grooms came to lead Gringolet to a stable and rub him down. Then Sir Bertilak himself came to welcome Gawain and show him to the best spare bedroom, where a fire was already burning in the grate. He called his servants to bring in a bathtub and fill it with pitchers of hot water, and to lay out big fluffy towels, and bring several sets of rich robes so that their guest had a choice of what to change into once he’d had a good long soak. By the time they’d sorted all that out, and taken Gawain’s armour off him – which took a while, because he was too stiff with cold to help much – and carried the clothes he’d been wearing since the start of November to the castle laundry, the bath was full, and Gawain climbed in and lay back until he’d stopped shivering.

When he was dry and dressed in fresh clothes, a servant brought him his dinner on a tray – it was salmon en croute, and the most delicious meal that Gawain had ever tasted – and Sir Bertilak came back to sit with him while he ate. ‘You’re very welcome to my castle,’ he said. ‘Sorry it’s only fish pie for dinner, but then it _is_ Friday, after all!’

Gawain, who had eaten the last crust of stale bread from his saddlebag that morning, laughed with relief and said, ‘This is the sort of penance I can live with!’ Sir Bertilak asked him whether he’d come far, and what brought him on such a hard journey at this time of year, and Gawain explained who he was, and how he’d come from Camelot seeking the Knight of the Green Chapel, and now, with only a week to go, was no nearer to finding him...

But Sir Bertilak said, ‘Oh, I know where the Green Chapel is; you’ll find your way there, don’t worry. But in the meantime, Sir Gawain of Orkney, I’ve heard such a lot about you, and it’d be a great honour if you’d stay and celebrate Christmas with us. I’m sure my wife will enjoy meeting you, too. Talking of Christmas, it’s nearly time for Midnight Mass now. Are you all right to come down to the castle chapel, or do you need to rest?’

Gawain had been struggling not to yawn, but now he remembered that this was why he’d been so keen to come to some shelter tonight. So he came down to the chapel where all of Sir Bertilak’s household and guests were assembled, and they listened to the Gospel stories about Jesus’s birth, and the prophecies in Isaiah, and sang carols – including Gawain’s favourite, the one that goes, ‘ _Holly! Holly! And the first tree in the greenwood, it was the holly!_ ’ – and took Communion.

Afterwards, they had mince pies and mulled wine, and Gawain was introduced to everyone in the castle, including Sir Bertilak’s wife, Lady Hautdesert, who was a good few years younger than her husband and very beautiful, and an old woman whose name Gawain didn’t quite catch, possibly because he was still looking at Lady Hautdesert. The old woman was dressed in black from head to foot except for the white cloth around her chin, like a nun, but Gawain thought she looked more like a witch, and felt rather afraid. Even though he knew his own mother, Morgause, was a witch, that didn’t reassure him much, because he’d always been rather afraid of his mother, too. But on the other hand, Morgause was beautiful, whereas this one was hideous and scowling. Gawain couldn’t work out whether she was a relative of Sir Bertilak or of his wife, but Sir Bertilak seemed to spend a lot of his time with her, and always sat next to her at meals, leaving his wife to sit with Gawain.

For the next few days, there was such thick snow that nobody could leave the castle, so Sir Bertilak and his household and all their guests took it in turns to invent games. Gawain decided to make the most of it, because he knew this could well be the last party he would ever attend. He tried not to be bitter about the fact that last year’s celebrations had led him to seek his death this year, but just to be glad that he was spending his last few days with a generous host who showered him with kindness, and a beautiful woman who couldn’t be a threat to his virtue because she was already married. He tried to remember to say his prayers every night before bed – which wasn’t easy, as he didn’t usually get to bed until the small hours of the morning – and to ask God to look after Agravain and Gaheris at Camelot, and Gareth and Mordred on Orkney, when he wouldn’t be around much longer.

But whatever he tried to pray, what went through his head was the song about the holly. ‘ _[Now the holly bears a berry as green as the grass,/ And Mary she bore Jesus who died on the cross.](https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=Youtube+%27Sans+Day+Carol%27+%27carnival+band%27&docid=608036883740691785&mid=F3DBA845C4675ACBBF32F3DBA845C4675ACBBF32&view=detail&FORM=VIRE)’_ Being crucified must hurt a lot more than being beheaded, but that didn’t make being beheaded any easier to face. _‘Now the holly bears a berry as black as the coal,/ And Mary she bore Jesus who died for us all.’_ And in a way, Gawain was about to die for me, because he’d accepted the challenge instead of me, but really he was about to die because we’d both been so keen to join in a pointless contest rather than be called cowards. _‘Now the holly bears a berry, as blood it is red,/ And Mary she bore Jesus who rose from the dead./ And Mary she bore Jesus, our saviour for to be,/ And the first tree in the greenwood it was the holly._ ’ And Gawain would have to trust Jesus to raise him from the dead, but right now, the only one who kept rising again was the Green Knight.

By the twenty-eighth of December, the snow had thawed enough for all the visitors to set off home, though not the old woman, who seemed to be a permanent fixture in Sir Bertilak’s household. Gawain was all set to head off as well, in search of the Green Chapel, but Sir Bertilak said it was only a couple of miles from his castle, and Gawain was more than welcome to stay until New Year’s Day and ride out in the morning. ‘But,’ he said, ‘I must ask you to do one thing in return.’

Gawain said, ‘Yes, I promise: I’ll do whatever you command.’

So Sir Bertilak said, ‘I command you to have a rest. You’ve had a long, hard journey, and since you’ve been here I’ve kept you up late at night, talking and drinking and playing games, when you should have been catching up on your sleep. Now, tomorrow morning _I_ intend to go hunting, but I want _you_ to have a good lie-in and not get up until you feel like it, and have a peaceful day; I’ll ask my wife to keep you company and make sure you don’t get too bored. We’ll repeat this for three days, and after that, you should be fresh enough to withstand this Green Knight you’ve told me about. Oh, and one more thing: if I catch anything when I’m hunting, I’ll present it to you on my return, and if you’ve won anything in the castle, you’re to give it to me in exchange. Is that a fair deal?’

So, the next morning, that was what they did. Gawain surfaced briefly just before dawn, when he could hear the horses neighing and the hounds barking in the courtyard below, and he parted the curtains around his four-poster bed and glanced out at the window, he could see the sky rippled with pink bars. He waited until he saw the blazing red sun roll over the horizon, and heard the blast of Sir Bertilak’s hunting horn, and then he kept his promise and went back to sleep.

When he woke again, it was broad daylight, and he felt comfortably warm and drowsy and happy to stay in bed. As he was lying back and gazing up at the paint swirls on the ceiling, he heard someone softly opening the bedroom door. He glanced between the curtains to see who it was, but, as it was Lady Hautdesert, coming in with a cup of tea on a tray and looking as if she was trying not to disturb him, he rolled over, pulled the blankets over his head, and pretended to be fast asleep. The lady put the tray down on the bedside table, and then parted the curtains and sat down on the side of the bed, and when there was no response from Gawain (who was secretly making the Sign of the Cross under the bedclothes, to protect himself from temptation), she pinned him down with her arms on both sides of the bedclothes. 

‘So, Sir Gawain of Orkney, do you yield to me?’ she asked. ‘Confess it: you are pinioned and cannot rise; these curtains shall be your dungeon, this blanket your fetters, and you shall not stir unless you pay me my ransom.’

Gawain said, ‘Sweet lady, I surrender at once and beg your mercy, but will you give me leave to sit up? I can’t plead very well with my head under the blankets.’

So the lady let him sit up, and said, ‘Sweet knight, as you yield to me, so I will yield to you. My husband has left everything in the house at your disposal, and all I can give you that he has not is my body. Oh, Gawain, do you know how much I’ve longed for this moment? I’d heard so much about how brave and honourable and courteous you were, and I’d always longed to meet you. And now, in the five days since we’ve met, I’ve seen that you were nobler and sweeter and more handsome than anyone ever told me, and much more besides, but I never had the chance to be alone with you until now. So, please, don’t scorn me when I tell you that, if a thousand valiant knights and princes and kings were all clamouring to be my husband, I’d choose you over all of them.’

Gawain said, ‘Well, thank you, but I think you’ve got a much better husband already. But, as you’ve taken me prisoner, I will be your servant, and obey any of your commands, once I’ve paid my ransom to be allowed out of bed. What ransom shall I pay you?’

‘Only this,’ she said: ‘that I might have one kiss with the great Sir Gawain.’

So they kissed, and then the lady said, ‘Would you like breakfast in bed?’

But Gawain said, ‘No, really, it’s all right: I’ll come down to the dining-room.’ 


	3. Chapter 3

So the lady left him in peace, and Gawain got up and dressed and said his prayers and came down to join Lady Hautdesert and the old crone in black for a late breakfast. He spent the day with them, and for once he was quite relieved to have the old woman as a chaperone, as she kept him busy answering questions about his parents and his brothers, and whether his mother was still beautiful. The lady of the castle sat by, embroidering a green silk scarf in gold thread with the words ‘ _Honi soit qui mal y pense_ ,’ and listening to their conversation.

When Sir Bertilak and his companions came home that evening, they brought dozens of splendid deer into the hall and laid them at Gawain’s feet. ‘You’ve had a good day’s hunting,’ said Gawain, ‘and I’ll surrender my catch in return,’ and with that he kissed Sir Bertilak, who laughed and said, ‘Well, that’s a dear prize to give up, if the giver was dear to you. Do you think you ought to tell me where you won it?’

Gawain shook his head firmly. ‘That wasn’t part of the agreement. After all, I didn’t ask you where you went hunting, did I?’ So Sir Bertilak agreed not to question him, as long as they could play the same game tomorrow.

The next morning, when Lady Hautdesert came into Gawain’s room, she kissed him as soon as he woke, and said, ‘Oh, my dearest Gawain, thank you for protecting my honour yesterday, by not telling who it was that kissed you! I’m sorry for loving you so much, when I should have realised that you must have a lover far more beautiful and nobler than I am. After all, you could hardly be so valiant if you didn’t have some lady to inspire you to mighty deeds, could you?’

Gawain said, ‘Well, I don’t have a girlfriend at the moment, but the lady who teaches me courage is the saint on this shield, and I pray that she’ll teach both of us self-control as well.’

Lady Hautdesert trembled her lower lip and said, ‘So, you don’t have a partner, but you can’t love me, even when I’m dying of love for you? You hold my heart in your hand; do you want to crush it utterly?’

Gawain said, ‘I love you as I love your husband. The two of you have been the kindest of hosts to me since I arrived, and I won’t repay your generosity by destroying your marriage. Now, if I have permission to get up and get dressed, I’ll come and sit with you and your friend until your husband comes back. Is that better than nothing?’

The lady said, ‘There’s a price to pay,’ and with that she kissed Gawain for the second time that morning, and left him in peace. He came down and spent the day with the two women as before, and Lady Hautdesert went on with her embroidery as they talked. She had finished the motto now, and was sewing pictures all around it: sprigs of holly, and the rising sun, and a hunter who looked like Sir Bertilak drawing a longbow below the writing, and a stag leaping above it.

When Sir Bertilak came in, he was soaked to the skin up to his chest, as he’d spent the day hunting a ferocious wild boar, and hadn’t been able to kill it until he’d cornered the beast between the rocks in a deep river. His teeth were chattering, but he wouldn’t rest until he had laid the giant boar at Gawain’s feet, and so Gawain kissed him twice in exchange.

‘You’re getting good at this game,’ said Sir Bertilak. ‘Someone in the castle doesn’t find you a bore! But remember: it’s not over until we’ve played the third round.’

Gawain slept uneasily that night, but he slept long, dreaming confused dreams about green axe-men and deer-hunts and Mary being told that her beloved son would be a spear to pierce her own heart. So this time he really was still asleep, but muttering and crying out in his nightmares, when the lady came in to wake him with a kiss. ‘There, dearest hart,’ she said, ‘the hunters won’t shoot you! Gawain, you’re safe here!’

‘Am I?’ asked Gawain. ‘I’m not sure my virtue’s safe.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry about tempting you yesterday!’ said the lady. ‘Here, let me kiss you again to make it better! I’ve just come to say goodbye, in case I don’t see you before you go off tomorrow, and to give you a present to take with you in memory of one who loved you.’ And with that she held out the embroidered silk scarf.

‘It’s beautiful, but I can’t take your embroidery!’ said Gawain. ‘Your husband’s seen you working on it, so when I passed it on to him, he’d know that you’d given it to me.’

‘No, you mustn’t give it to Bertilak!’ said the lady. ‘I’ve been finishing it off ever since he rode out this morning, and now it’s yours and only yours.’ She showed it to Gawain, and he saw that now the leaping stag had a five-point star stitched on his breast, like the star on Gawain’s shield. ‘You see,’ the lady said, ‘the stitches are so tight that if I unpicked them now, they’d tear the picture of the hart to shreds, just as you’ll tear my heart if you refuse to take my present. And besides, I made it to save your life!’ Gawain must have looked puzzled at this, and so she went on: ‘you see, my companion is a witch, and she loves you nearly as deeply as I do, so she’s taught me to stitch a magic spell into my embroidery to protect you from the Green Knight. If you wear this scarf tied around you – it needn’t be round your neck, it could be round your waist or looped under one arm or wherever you like – then nobody will be able to wound you. I’m sure you’re not a coward, and I know you’d face death bravely for your own sake, but will you save your life for my sake? Then, if I don’t see you again, at least I’ll know that you’ve gone home to Camelot, happy and unhurt, instead of lying in pieces on the snowy hillside.’

So Gawain promised to tie the silk around his waist at once, before he got dressed, and the lady gave him a third kiss and left him to do that. But today, before he went down to join the two enchantresses, Gawain went to the castle priest to make confession. He wasn’t entirely sure the scarf would work, so he decided he’d better make sure he was in a state of grace in case he died tomorrow, and confessed every sin he could remember ever having committed, going right back to the time as a child when he and his brothers had killed a unicorn. But he didn’t say anything about the scarf he wasn’t going to hand over to Sir Bertilak, because he couldn’t without betraying Lady Hautdesert’s confidence. He hoped that lying about a silk scarf wasn’t a very big sin.

It was long dark when Sir Bertilak came in, with nothing to show for his day’s hunting but a rather mangy fox-skin. When Gawain gave him three kisses, he said, ‘You cunning fox, you’re getting richer every time I catch less! You didn’t catch anything else, did you?’

‘No, but the kisses are more wealth than any man could crave,’ said Gawain. ‘And I’ll remember them when I ride out tomorrow, but now I’d like to say goodbye to everyone in the castle, and thank each of you for looking after me so well.’ And so he went round and thanked everyone, first Sir Bertilak, and his wife, and the old woman, and then the servants who had brought him meals and washed his clothes and the grooms who had looked after Gringolet, and then all the people he hadn’t had much contact with but he knew they had important work to do, and then Sir Bertilak and his wife again. And when they’d rung in the New Year and sung ‘[ _Auld Lang Syne_](https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=Youtube+%27Auld+Lang+Syne%27&docid=608054325574698501&mid=8D740861E6C423A532BC8D740861E6C423A532BC&view=detail&FORM=VIRE)’, Gawain went to up to his four-poster bed for the last time, and wondered whether he’d spend the next night sleeping in his armour on the journey home, or sleeping in the earth until Doomsday. He tried to make the most of having a soft bed while it lasted, but he didn’t fall asleep until just before dawn, when a servant came to wake him.

It had snowed again, very deeply, and the clouds were gathering ashen-white to drop another load any time soon. Gawain got dressed, with the green scarf carefully tucked inside his shirt, and put his armour on, and went downstairs (trying not to clank too much, in case Sir Bertilak and his wife were still asleep) to where a groom had brought Gringolet out for him. The groom walked beside him through the forest to guide him most of the way to the Green Chapel, ‘But, brave Sir Gawain,’ he said, ‘are you sure you really want to go there? I’ve heard of this Green Knight, even caught sight of him a couple of times, and he’s a fearsome monster, as big as a troll and absolutely pitiless. He kills everyone who passes that way – knights or civilians, men or women, even monks and priests. So, sir, if you promise to ride home to Camelot some other way, I’ll go back and tell my master how bravely you faced the Green Knight and overcame him.’

Gawain smiled and said, ‘It’s very kind of you, but it’s no good letting everyone think I’m a hero if I know I’m a coward. I’ve promised the Green Knight I’ll face him, so I will. But if you just point me to where the Green Chapel is, you’re welcome to go home to your master, and thank him from me for all his kindness.’

So the groom pointed to a track running down to the bottom of a valley, and then turned and hurried back to Sir Bertilak’s castle, and Gawain rode on alone. The trees came to an end, and the path opened onto a bare hillside with nothing but snow, and craggy boulders, and a burial mound that might have been the tomb of some ancient king, standing by a brook which swirled and bubbled as if it was boiling. 

There was no sign of a building anywhere, not even a hut with a wriggly tin roof. Gawain was beginning to wonder if the groom had deliberately sent him on the wrong road to try and save his life, when he heard the sound of an axe being sharpened on the rocks above the mound, and it occurred to him that this mound _was_ the Green Chapel. He’d been expecting a Christian chapel, but, of course, this was the sort of place where a primeval monster like the Green Knight would worship. So he called up, in the direction of the noise, ‘I’m ready when you are!’

The Green Knight came down the hillside to meet him, looking exactly the same as he had last year, except that his head was back on his neck (without any sign of a scar, so the wound must have healed very neatly) and that he was on foot now, still barefoot in the deep snow, and with a brand-new axe. ‘You’re welcome to the Green Chapel,’ he said, ‘but don’t you know you should take your helmet off in a holy place? Come on, I haven’t got all day!’

So, Gawain took his helmet off, put down his shield, and stretched his neck out, but, as the Green Knight swung the axe at him, he flinched. ‘And you’re supposed to be the valiant Sir Gawain!’ snorted the Green Knight. ‘I never flinched when you cut my head off, did I?’

Gawain said, ‘No, but then I can’t stick mine back on my shoulders, can I? All right, try again, and I’ll keep still this time.’ 

And he stood as still as a stone, while the Green Knight swung the tremendous axe at him, terribly fast – and stopped short, just a sixteenth of an inch from Gawain’s skin. ‘Now you’re getting the hang of it,’ the Green Knight said. ‘Practice makes perfect.’

Gawain said, ‘Well, are you going to play with me all day? You were the one who said you were in a hurry!’

So this time, the Green Knight swung the blade in earnest, just enough to cut the skin on the side of Gawain’s neck without damaging anything vital. Gawain didn’t even feel the wound for a moment, because he was so surprised to be still alive, but when he saw his blood spattering the snow, he drew his sword, and said, ‘There, we’ve done! A blow for a blow, as agreed, and all debts paid. And if you dare strike me again, I’ll fight you!’

‘Oh, I’m not going to strike again,’ said the Green Knight – except that he wasn’t green any more, or quite so huge, and in fact, had turned back into Sir Bertilak de Hautdesert. ‘But if it’s a matter of paying debts, I think you still owe me a green silk scarf.’ 


	4. Chapter 4

Gawain opened and shut his mouth a couple of times without managing to say anything, and Sir Bertilak went on: ‘I’d asked my wife to flirt with you, to test your virtue. The first evening, and the second evening, you paid me the kisses she’d given you, so I spared you twice. The third evening, you paid me the kisses but not the scarf, and now you’ve been punished for it.’

Gawain stared at the ground, where his shield was lying with the gold star facing him. ‘I’ve been a bit of an idiot, haven’t I?’ he mumbled. ‘It’s my fault, for being vain enough to think your wife was in love with me – as if any woman would want me, when I’m a knave and a fool and a coward and a cheat, and an idler who loafs around in bed while you’re out fighting wild boars, and a...’

He’d have gone on calling himself every bad name he could think of, but Sir Bertilak said, ‘Cheer up, it’s not the end of the world! I forgive you, and you’re welcome to keep the scarf. It isn’t really a magic one, as you’ve probably worked out, but it’s pretty, after all. Now, come back to my castle and sit by the fire and have some lunch, and you’re welcome to stay with us through the winter and go home when the weather clears up, and we’ll be your friends now and never test you or play tricks on you again.’

Gawain found his voice and asked, ‘Was everyone in on this? The groom who showed me the way here – was he really afraid of the Green Knight, or just acting?’

Sir Bertilak shook his head. ‘No, I’ve let the Green Knight be seen a couple of times around here, and word gets around. But if you come home with me, I’ll tell everyone how you I saw you withstand the Green Knight even when he wounded you, and how he’ll never trouble us again. Your aunt’s going to be disappointed – she wanted to keep the game going a bit longer – but I think it’s time we called it a day.’

‘My _aunt_?’ repeated Gawain.

‘Yes, the old lady in black – didn’t I tell you that was your aunt, Morgan Le Fay? She’s a fine woman in many ways, but she’s never quite accepted your Uncle Arthur being king – her little brother getting ideas above his station and all that. So, when we’d been arguing about whether King Arthur and his knights were really as brave as everyone said, I agreed to let her turn me into the most terrifying shape she could, and send me to Camelot to see how people reacted. Well, you passed the first test. And when I came home and told your Aunt Morgan how you and King Arthur and Sir Kay had all been willing to fight me, and how you’d chopped my head off, she still said you wouldn’t dare come to meet me here. Well, when you arrived at my castle asking for directions to the Green Chapel, it was obvious that you were going to pass the second test. So then, my wife suggested a third test...’

‘All right, all right, I know I failed it!’ said Gawain. ‘But what chance did I have, with women conspiring against me? If Adam was led astray by Eve, and Sampson by Delilah, and David by Bathsheba, and the wise Solomon by seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines, how could poor Gawain of Orkney do any better? Well, you can give my regards to your wife and my aunt, and say Happy New Year to them, but I’m not going back to face them again!’ And with that, he picked up his helmet and his shield, jumped onto Gringolet’s back, and rode off alone through the snow. The cut on his neck was starting to sting in the cold air, so he pulled out the silk scarf and used it as a bandage. The embroidered parts itched a bit, but he thought he probably deserved it.

It was Shrove Tuesday when Gawain arrived back at Camelot. The servants were bringing in mounds of pancakes, but, again, I couldn’t bear to eat – not because I was too excited, but because I was too miserable at having lost my nephew. So when Gawain came in, Guinevere and I ran to hug him, but he knelt on the floor and wouldn’t even meet our eyes, and announced, ‘I’ve come back here to be banished, because if I didn’t come back you’d think I’d died bravely, and I didn’t.’ 

Of course, we asked what he meant, and Gawain muttered the whole story to the floor, and took off his helmet to show us the scar on his neck. It was a very faint line that was barely even visible, and he had plenty of much more noticeable scars from various fights, but of course this was different, because this was the mark of punishment, and, as far as Gawain was concerned, he might as well have had the words ‘PROMISE-BREAKER’ in flashing red lights on his forehead. And he showed us the green scarf which, he said, he was bound to wear for the rest of his life as a sign of disgrace.

By the time he’d finished the story, everyone was laughing; we couldn’t help it, when Gawain was behaving as if such a trivial failure was the crime of the century. I asked Guinevere for the scarf she was wearing – a fluffy pink one – and tied it round my neck, so that Gawain wouldn’t be the only one looking ridiculous, and Agravain and Gaheris promised to write to their mother to ask for two of her laciest scarves, and to wear them forever in loyalty to their brother.

But Gawain was still huddled on the floor and sobbing. ‘It’s not funny!’ he burst out. ‘If you won’t banish me, then take away my armour and dress me in motley and keep me as your fool, because I’m not worthy to be a knight!’

At that point, Sir Kay went and knelt next to Gawain on the floor. ‘Gawain,’ he said, ‘you do know how Arthur became king, don’t you?’

Gawain said, ‘Wasn’t it because he pulled a sword out of a stone, when you wanted one for a tournament?’

Kay said, ‘That’s right. But when he brought it to me and told me where he’d found it, I pretended that I’d pulled it out, and that I was the one destined to be king. I suppose I was jealous because I wished I could have done anything that good, and I knew I’d never have been stubborn enough to keep pulling until it came out, and I didn’t see why Arthur was always Merlyn’s favourite. And there wasn’t really any point, because when I told my father I’d pulled the sword from the stone, he just said, “Are you _sure_ that’s true?” And after all, that’s a much bigger lie than just keeping quiet about being given a silk scarf – but Arthur didn’t banish me, did he?’

So Gawain cheered up, and all of us swore to wear ladies’ scarves in loyalty to him, and that was the beginning of the Order Of The Scarf. And since then, there have been times when Gawain got things seriously wrong, not just tiny mistakes like that. But he told me that, when he looks at the green and gold scarf, he remembers that I still love him and that he’s always welcome back, whatever happens.

‘Well, things like that happen to me all the time, and I don’t behave as though it’s the end of the world,’ said Jack when I’d finished. ‘But I suppose it’s harder for someone like Gawain who believes in stuff like honour and chivalry, because he’s got more to lose. Personally, I’ve never understood what people mean by honour.’

‘It depends who’s saying it,’ I said. ‘You’re right that a lot of the time they don’t mean anything, because they’re just talking about reputation: a soldier’s reputation for courage, a woman’s reputation for chastity, or anything like that. But to Gawain, it means things like _really_ keeping promises, _really_ facing up to danger and trying to do what’s right, whether anyone’s going to know whether he did or not – and keeping on trying, even after realising that he’s not perfect.’

‘If you think about it, what any word means depends on its context,’ said Cheiron. ‘If you read in a poem that a certain knight “loved freedom and honour, truth and courtesy,” that doesn’t tell you whether he defended other people’s freedom or just wanted to be able to do whatever he liked himself, or whether he strove to behave honourably or just wanted to be honoured. You’d have to read the rest of the poem to find out how he behaved.’

Jack rolled his eyes. ‘Teachers! I can’t say anything without getting an explanation in stereo!’

‘Well, I have been a teacher for a good few thousand years now,’ pointed out Cheiron. ‘Ever since I was sitting with Jason in a cave in Greece. And talking of caves, if I leave you two tomorrow morning, can you meet me at the Lair of the White Rabbit in about a month’s time?’

I mentally calculated the distance to the Lair of the White Rabbit, and how many miles per day we could manage with backpacks on, without Cheiron to act as a packhorse. ‘I think so, but why there? It’s a grim, desolate sort of place, even after the Rabbit’s been dead for so long.’

‘Is that the fluffy white bunny that leapt six feet in the air and ripped people’s throats out?’ asked Jack. ‘The one that killed so many on the Grail quest? There was a ballad about _that_ legend that came down to my time, a thousand years later: “Sir Gawain and Sir Bors it slew, and many a worthy knight.” Did that really happen?’

‘Well, not those two; Bors lived to find the Holy Grail and drink Communion from it, and Gawain was alive and well when I last saw him a couple of months ago. All the same, that fluffy bunny with pink eyes and razor teeth _did_ kill a lot of my knights who went to search for the Holy Grail, but it’s been dead for years now. But, Cheiron, why exactly are we going there?’

‘Because there’s another man I’d like to bring to join us, and he’s a bit solitary, so I thought he might feel safer living in a cave until he’s settled in,’ said Cheiron. ‘But in the meantime, are you two all right to carry what you need?’

We looked at each other. ‘I think so,’ said Jack. ‘I’m a lot stronger than when I arrived here. I mean, I don’t plan to sleep in armour on the bare ground like Gawain, but we don’t really need thick sleeping-bags now it’s this hot – I can’t believe I was shivering so much, that first night! And without your vegetarian conscience, Cheiron, instead of carting around cooking-pots and bags of barley and dried peas, we can just shoot the odd deer when we’re hungry, and roast it.’

‘Maybe not a deer, for just two of us,’ I said. ‘But there are rabbits and hares, and lots of ripe berries in the woods now, so we needn’t live on dried food.’

Cheiron normally carried two supply-bags on a harness around his horse-body, and a third as a rucksack on his human back, but the two horseback ones had detachable straps and belts to turn them back into rucksacks. We took the tent down and practised fitting it and the supplies we thought we’d need into the spare rucksacks, and then putting them on and trying to stand up with them on.

‘Arthur,’ said Jack at last, ‘you must be a witch like your sisters, because you’ve transfigured me. I know, because I can buckle the belt of this thing round my waist, and last time I checked, I didn’t _have_ a waist – I had an equator!’

‘The pack isn’t too heavy, is it?’ I’d put most of the heavy equipment in my own bag, but after all, Jack was still far from well, and the side-pockets of his bag contained assorted bottles of medicine with a note from Cheiron reminding him which ones to take when. I didn’t want to drive him too hard.

‘Oh, I’m stronger than I look. Once I carried the body of a slain foe rights across a battlefield, to show him to the king and prove that I’d killed him.’

‘And had you?’ I asked.

‘Well, not exactly – but I would have done if he hadn’t been dead already. Anyway, I can manage this, no problem. Gallop off now, Cheiron, and we’ll see you at the Lair of the White Rabbit.’


End file.
